


The One That Got Away

by Seraph_Novak



Series: Tyrus One-Shots [24]
Category: Andi Mack (TV)
Genre: Adults, Cute, Future Fic, Happy Ending, Love Confessions, M/M, Mutual Pining, One Shot, Reunions, Tyrus - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-21
Updated: 2018-10-21
Packaged: 2019-08-05 09:25:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,529
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16365209
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Seraph_Novak/pseuds/Seraph_Novak
Summary: When TJ returns to his hometown almost 13 years after his family moved away, the last person he expects to run into is Cyrus Goodman. After all this time, his feelings for the other man haven't changed. But does Cyrus feel the same way?





	The One That Got Away

**Author's Note:**

> Hey, guys! I'm sorry I haven't uploaded anything in a while... It's been a busy week, and I've been working on a few SPN fics as well. But here's another fluffy Tyrus fic for you!
> 
> As always, all comments and kudos are very much appreciated ♥
> 
> [My Tumblr](https://seraph-novak.tumblr.com)

As soon as he steps through the door, TJ gravitates towards the lonely stools at the front of the bar. He’s by himself, as per usual, so there’s no point in finding a table. Tables are for groups of people – friends and families and couples on dates… TJ doesn’t fall into any of the above categories. Never has, and probably never will. But that’s a fact he came to accept a long time ago, so he doesn’t let it bother him. He simply fishes out his wallet, slaps a few bills on the counter, and takes a seat in one of the red-leather stools, shifting his butt from side to side to make sure the legs aren’t uneven.

“I’ll have a beer,” he tells the bartender, smiling tightly as he settles into his seat and rests his elbows on top of the bar.

He scrubs his hands over his face and sighs deeply between his fingers. The musty scent of his grandma’s attic lingers on his skin, and he has to suppress a shudder. He and his grandma were never close – they barely ever spoke after the move – but cleaning out the belongings of a dead relative is never fun. Especially when your hands reek of dust and dampness afterwards.  

“Here ya go,” the bartender says, sliding an open bottle of beer across the counter.

TJ cups his hands around the bottle. It’s stingingly cold, but he doesn’t care. He just needs to hold onto something, before his mind starts to slip away. If he starts thinking about his grandma too intensely, he’ll start thinking about death, and he’s really not in the mood to contemplate his own mortality right now.

“Thanks,” he mumbles.

To his right, a young couple is flirting in one of the booths, their matching smiles wide and full of teeth as they lean across the tight space and whisper to each other. TJ feels a familiar aching in his chest and looks away. As a gay man who never makes an effort to socialise with _other_ gay men, TJ has never had much luck in the love department. If he wanted a relationship, he could probably have one; he’s fairly good-looking, and at 26, he isn’t exactly old yet. But there’s something holding him back. He tries telling himself he’s just not ready for a real relationship yet, but he knows that isn’t strictly true. His heart is still hung up on some stupid, Middle School crush, and he can’t seem to shake it – no matter how hard he tries.

It’s been over a decade since he last saw Cyrus Goodman. He can hardly remember what he looks like; and even if he could, his appearance must’ve changed quite a bit in 12 years. But he can still remember how Cyrus used to make him feel. He’s tried going on several dates in his adult years, but none of the men he’s met have even come close to inducing that same, dizzy feeling of happiness he used to feel around Cyrus. That’s the _real_ reason he stopped making an effort: in his heart, he knows he’ll never find someone as great as Cyrus Goodman.

“Pathetic,” he mutters to himself, the word disappearing down the neck of his beer bottle.

He shakes his head and starts flicking his eyes across the room, a bored sense of curiosity overtaking him. It’s been so long since he’s been in this town, he probably won’t recognise anyone here. A few faintly familiar faces emerge from the crowd, but no one interesting enough to make note of. He’s about to turn back to his drink when a familiar laugh catches his attention from the corner of the bar, and he suddenly finds himself staring at Cyrus Goodman – slightly older, and slightly taller, but still the same boy he fell in love with at 14 years old. 

His grip slackens, and his bottle hits the bar with a loud thunk. Cold beer pools on the counter and drips onto his lap, seeping through his jeans and sticking against his thighs. He jumps up from his stool with a hiss and picks the bottle up.

“Sorry,” he says, searching his pockets for a tissue, but the bartender waves him off with a smile and starts soaking up the beer with a rag instead.

His cheeks are warm as he takes a seat in the stool next to the wet one. He turns up the collar of his jacket in an effort to hide his face, just in case the commotion caught Cyrus’ attention, but it’s useless; a few moments later, someone is tapping his shoulder and saying his name.

“TJ? Is that you?”

_Well, there’s no avoiding him now…_

“Cyrus?” he says, plastering on a fake smile as he looks the younger man up and down. “Fancy seeing you here. How long’s it been?”

“12 years,” Cyrus says. His answer is immediate, without a hint of hesitation, almost as if he’s been keeping track of the years since TJ moved away. But he knows that’s unlikely. Cyrus probably forgot about him after a few weeks, found a new best friend and swiftly moved on. “I never thought I’d see you again.”

He lifts his left shoulder in an awkward half-shrug, internally fighting back the memory of saying goodbye to Cyrus all those years ago. Whenever he thinks about that day – when Cyrus came knocking on his front door at four in the morning, just a couple hours before his family left for good, and kissed him for the first and last time – he gets weirdly choked up and starts thinking about all the things he could’ve done differently. What if he’d kept in touch like he’d promised he would? What if he’d bought a bus ticket and visited once in a while? What if he’d made more of an effort to keep this amazingly kind and beautiful boy in his life? Things could’ve turned out so differently, if only he’d tried.

“I’m here now,” he says, sounding much cheerier than he feels. “We should catch up.”

Cyrus beams. “I’d love that!”

The sleeping butterflies in his stomach stir at the sight of that pure and honest smile. He’s starting to think that maybe he has a chance to make things right, to catch up with his childhood crush and tell him all the things he’d been too scared to say when they were younger, but then another man appears over Cyrus’ shoulder and bumps their hips together, grinning the kind of grin reserved for close friends and partners.

“Hey, Cy,” the handsome brunet says, “I lost you in the crowd for a sec there. Why’d you run off?”

Cyrus squeezes the man’s arm. “Sorry, Marty. TJ and I were just catching up. You remember TJ, right? He was the captain of the basketball team in Middle School. He and Buffy fought like cat and dog.”

“How could I forget?” Marty holds out his hand for TJ to shake. “Hey, man. It’s been a while.”

Honestly, he can’t remember this guy all too well. But he’s obviously friends with Cyrus (maybe even more than friends) and he seems nice enough, so he takes his hand and returns the smile. The man’s face is vaguely familiar, but he can’t seem to conjure any concrete memories, so maybe they didn’t talk much in school. It wouldn’t be surprising, seeing as he was an asshole to everyone back then. To everyone but Cyrus, that is.

“Hey, Marty,” he says, testing the name out on his tongue.

Marty rolls his eyes, but not unkindly. “You don’t remember me, do you? It’s okay. I get it. We weren’t exactly friends. I tried out for the team, but I didn’t make it. And then you moved away before I became a part of the gang.”

“The gang?”

“Oh, you know. Buffy, Cyrus, Andi, Jonah… We were a package deal all through High School. Right, Cy?”

Cyrus laughs, and TJ feels a pang in his chest. If he hadn’t moved house, he might’ve been a part of that gang too. Would he and Cyrus have had a chance? Would they have been High School sweethearts? He’ll never know.

“We’re _still_ a package deal,” Cyrus says, nudging his shoulder against Marty’s with a grin.

It’s only when Marty lifts his hand to ruffle Cyrus’ hair that he notices the golden band on his finger. The fluorescent lights behind the bar hit the ring for just a second, a bright flash of white gold, and TJ flinches away from the sight of it. Their closeness suddenly makes a painful sort of sense.

“You guys are married, huh?” He gestures to the bartender for another beer, trying his best not to let the heartbreak show on his face. He sucks in a shaky breath and forces a smile. “Well, that’s great. I’m really happy for you guys.”

Cyrus’ brow crinkles with an amused frown. “We’re not married, TJ.”

“But the ring –”

“ _I’m_ married,” Marty clarifies. A goofy grin devours his face as he spots someone walking up from behind them. “Here she is now.”

He almost does a double take when he sees Buffy Driscoll plunk herself onto the stool next to his, wrapping her arm around Marty’s waist and dragging him closer. When she turns to look at him, her eyes are twinkling deviously, and TJ suddenly remembers how he’d confessed his feelings for Cyrus to her a few weeks before he moved away. She’s the only one who truly knows how much he cares about the man standing next to him.   

“TJ Kippen,” she says. His name sounds like a challenge coming from her lips, and it terrifies him. “What are you doing in town?”

He clears his throat and shrugs. “Oh, um… My grandma died. I’m here to sort through her things and get her house on the market. Everyone else in the family was busy, I guess.”

Cyrus takes his hand and squeezes it. It’s a small, instinctive kind of gesture, but it still makes his heart stutter.

“I’m so sorry,” Cyrus says softly.

“Thanks. We weren’t close or anything – I can’t even remember the last time we spoke – but it’s still tough, you know?”

“I get it.”

He takes a risk by slotting their palms together, letting their fingertips brush for a moment, and smiles up at him. He can feel Cyrus’ pulse quickening against his wrist. Or is that just his imagination? Either way, it feels amazing to hold Cyrus’ hand again. He hasn’t felt the softness of his skin for far too long. 

“Buffy and I dated in High School,” Marty says, awkwardly steering the conversation back on track. “I proposed after college, and… here we are!” He claps an affectionate hand on Cyrus’ shoulder. “But don’t get me wrong, if I had to pick a guy –”

“Please don’t,” Cyrus laughs.

Buffy smacks her husband on the arm. “Can you please stop flirting with my best friend?”

“Well, I can try…”

“I _am_ pretty hard to resist,” Cyrus says, waggling his eyebrows and flashing an adorable smile. He’s obviously aiming for a joke, but TJ can’t resist bobbing his head in silent agreement.

Buffy catches him nodding dazedly and gives Marty a not-so-subtle elbow in the ribs.

“I wanna dance,” she announces with the same confidence he remembers her possessing in Middle School. “Come on!”

She loops her arm through Marty’s and jumps to her feet, giving TJ a pointed stare before smiling sweetly and slipping into the crowd. Cyrus watches her go with wide, helpless eyes, like he’s watching his mom disappear on the first day of kindergarten. When he turns back to him, TJ can see the sweat gathering on his brow. Cyrus has always been a nervous sweater – something he’d admitted to being self-conscious about back in the day, but a characteristic TJ secretly finds oddly endearing. He’s tempted to lean forward and push the damp hair out of his face, to let his hand rest against Cyrus’ cheek and feel his pulse fluttering against his palm, but he doesn’t want to make the other man feel uncomfortable. He already seems like a nervous wreck.

“I’m sorry,” Cyrus mumbles, wiping his sleeve across his forehead. He grimaces at the slimly trail it leaves behind and smothers his discomfort with a nervous giggle. “These lights are warm, right?”

“Yeah,” TJ says. He doesn’t feel hot at all, but he’d say anything right now to put Cyrus at ease.

He offers to buy Cyrus a drink, then attempts to fill the silence with small talk. Cyrus tells him about his job as a school counsellor, then politely listens as TJ explains his current situation: he’s been bouncing between random, unrelated jobs for a few years, but can’t seem to settle on a specific career. The more he talks about it out loud, the more pathetic he starts to sound.

“I’m almost 30,” he huffs. “I know I should’ve made my mind up by now.”

Cyrus returns his hand to its earlier positon – on top of TJ’s – and shakes his head.

“You’ve got years to figure that stuff out. Just keep searching for your passion; you’ll know when you find it.” He tilts his head to the side and grins. “Are you still writing?”

TJ snorts. “Are you making fun of me?”

“Of course not!”

“Well, I wouldn’t blame you.” He remembers how he used to write short stories and song lyrics in the back of his school books whenever he got bored in class, and how he’d later show them to Cyrus, and no one else. He wasn’t talented by a long shot, but Cyrus would always absorb every single word and praise him relentlessly. Looking back, he knows the other boy was probably just trying to be kind. “I’ve never been much of a writer.”

“Are you kidding me? You’re an amazing writer, TJ!”

“Come on…”

“I’m being serious. You have a real gift.”

He stares down at his shoes, rubbing at the blush on the back of his neck, and shrugs. “I dunno, Cy. I mean, I’ve been writing some poetry on the side, but it’s mainly just a hobby.”

“Really? Can I read some?”

“Well, I left my notebook back at my grandma’s house, so…”

“Maybe you could invite me over before you leave town,” Cyrus suggests, fiddling with the straw in his drink as a pretty pink blooms across his cheeks. He looks absolutely beautiful, and TJ is twitching with the effort not to grab his face and kiss him senseless. “I’d really love to read them.”

Before his mind has a chance to catch up with him, he takes Cyrus’ other hand and blurts out the words: “I’ve never stopped thinking about our kiss.”

Cyrus blinks at him in surprise. “You remember that?”

“Of course I remember it! That kiss was one of the greatest moments of my life.” He licks his lips and chuckles quietly. “I know that probably sounds weird, but it’s the truth. That was my first kiss, and it’s the best I’ve ever had. Because it was with _you_.”

“TJ…”

“I know, I know… We were just kids. You probably haven’t even thought about that kiss in years, right?”

“That wasn’t what I was going to say.” Cyrus spreads his fingers apart and threads them through TJ’s, his eyes glistening as he stares at him in wonder. “I’ve only been in one relationship since you moved away. In 12 years, I’ve only had _one_ boyfriend. And even then it wasn’t anything serious. Do you wanna know why?”

TJ swallows thickly. “Why?”

“Because I’ve been waiting for you.” A tear slips down his cheek, tragically beautiful in its solitude. “All this time, I’ve been waiting for you to come back to me.”

Without meaning to, they’ve moved closer together. Cyrus is standing above him, his knees pressed against TJ’s folded legs, and their hands are knotted together like the closed petals of a flower. If he breathes in, he can smell the vanillary scent of Cyrus’ cologne; he smells like dessert, and he looks even sweeter. 

“I have feelings for you,” he says. He knows he’s stating the obvious at this point, but it still needs to be said. “I always knew I had a crush on you, but when I saw you tonight… I realised it’s more than that. Maybe it always has been.”

Cyrus sniffs back tears and nods. “I feel the same way.”

“Is that why you kissed me? It wasn’t just your way of saying goodbye?”

“Is that what you thought?”

“Yeah,” he admits, suddenly feeling a little stupid. “But it always meant more to me.”

Cyrus cups his face. It’s such an intimate gesture, it makes his breath catch in the back of his throat.

“That kiss was never meant to be a goodbye,” Cyrus says, his lips quirking with the softest of smiles. “I always hoped we’d meet again, so I suppose it was more of a ‘see you later’ kind of kiss.”

TJ grins. “I like that.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.” He takes Cyrus’ free hand and kisses it. “Consider that my ‘hello again’ kiss.”

Cyrus laughs, and TJ can feel it trembling all the way down to his fingertips. He squeezes Cyrus’ hand even tighter, as if holding onto the sound of his laughter, and sweeps his thumb across Cyrus’ knuckles, relishing the tiny shiver that runs down his arm in return.

“It’s nice to see you’re still a dork,” Cyrus says fondly.

“I resent that.”

“It’s a compliment,” Cyrus assures him with a smile. He turns over TJ’s hand and starts tracing the lines mapping over his palm. “I think it’s sweet.”

“Yeah, well… I think you’re sweet too.”

“You do?”

“Isn’t it obvious?” He touches the small of Cyrus’ back and nudges him closer. “I’ve missed you so much, Underdog.”

Cyrus laughs again. “I’ve missed you too, Not-so-scary Basketball Guy.”

“So… Where do we go from here?”

“I’m not sure.” Cyrus chews his lip in thought, which is unfairly distracting. “How long are you staying in town? I mean, do you have many commitments back home?”

“Not really.”

“None?”

TJ shrugs. “Like I said, I keep bouncing between jobs. And it’s not like my family lives nearby anymore.”

“What are you saying?”

“Well…” He lifts Cyrus’ hand to his lips and kisses each of his fingers in turn. “There’s plenty of apartments to rent around here. Maybe I could stick around for a while, get to know the town again.” A beat of silence. “And maybe, if it’s not too soon, I could take you out sometime. What do you say?”

The blinding smile on Cyrus’ face is answer enough. He might be a decade older, and TJ might not tower over him as much as he used to, but his smile is still the same as he remembers, and just as beautiful.

“I’d like that.”

Before he can form a coherent response, Buffy and Marty return with a tray of colourful drinks.

“Have your professed your love for each other yet?”

“Buffy!” Cyrus yelps, a dark blush flooding his cheeks. “Do you have to be so blunt about it?”

“Well, you _have_ been pining for each other for almost 13 years. I don’t really see the point in being delicate about it.” She passes a purple drink to TJ and lifts a warning eyebrow. “I know you care about him, Kippen, so I doubt this threat is even necessary… But if you even _think_ about breaking my best friend’s heart, I’ll snap you in half like a twig. Got it?”

TJ can’t help but smile. Buffy is still just as fiercely loyal (and mildly terrifying) as she was in Middle School. They didn’t exactly see eye to eye when they were kids, but as an adult, he’s now able to appreciate her undeniable love for Cyrus. Which means they have at least _one_ thing in common.

“Don’t worry,” he tells her, “it’s never gonna happen.”

Buffy studies his face for a moment, as if searching for any signs of deceit, then gives him a rare smile and steps back.

“I think we can trust him.”

“Yeah,” Marty agrees.

“Thanks for the approval, I guess.”

“Ignore them,” Cyrus says, placing a hand on his arm. “They’re just being overly protective.”

TJ kisses the back of his hand and slips an arm around his waist. “If anyone deserves a bunch of overly protective friends watching their back, it’s you.”

“Oh, yeah.” Marty nods. “He’s definitely a keeper.”

Under the white lights of the bar, Cyrus looks like an angel as he gazes down at him, his toothy smile transporting him back to the day they first met. As soon as Buffy introduced him to the beautiful boy now tucked against his side, he knew he was a goner. It might’ve taken him 12 years to finally tell Cyrus how he feels, but at least it was more than worth the wait.

“Marty’s right,” Cyrus whispers against his ear, his voice as warm and soft as fresh candy floss. “I think I’m gonna keep you.”

TJ chuckles. “No objections here.”


End file.
